Raindrops
by noobyaoiwriter
Summary: I can see it in him every night when he leaves to sing. Every time one of the others turns away and he drops his mask. It looks so much like mine. I'm sure I'm right. I know that he can feel it too.


I saw him go there every night. Once the sun set and dark night fell over the castle, I heard him tiptoe out of his room and down the hall, outside. For the first few weeks, I just sat in my own room and listened to him leave. He would always be gone for hours, only coming back right before dawn. Then, just as the sky started to gray, I'd hear his almost silent footsteps pass by my room on the way to his. He would open his door carefully and slip inside, closing the door just as carefully. Every morning, as I listened to this, the same thought crossed my mind. _Can he feel it too?_

I started paying closer attention to him during daylight hours. He always acted cheerful, bubbly even. He talked with the others. Laughed with others. Acted normal. Just like the rest of them. But when he was alone, the facade would slip away, and the true emptiness inside showed its face. An emptiness just like mine, I could tell right away. He looked like a mirror image of myself. I saw the same expression on my face every time I saw my reflection. It wasn't the emptiness of having no heart. It was nothing like that. No, it was much worse. You can _feel_ this emptiness. It eats away at your chest, eats away until you can feel a hole you thought was already there. It eats away because you _know_ you can feel it, and you know you can't do anything about it. Forced to just pretend it didn't exist. Forced to blend in with the people who you thought were the same as you. People who hide their own, different emptiness behind talk and laughter, but who hide it for a much different reason.

That was when I was sure he felt it. As soon as I saw that expression, I knew he was the same as me. Three weeks after I starting hearing him leave, I started following him. I'd keep my boots on while I sat in my bed, hugging my knees close to me. I'd listen carefully for his soft footsteps to pass. Once they did, I would wait a half hour, then follow suit. It was easy to follow his trail through the castle, to the entrance. His scent led me down the path to the castle, and through the dark city. As I approached the skyscraper in the center, I could hear noises. As I hid behind a building, I could see him sitting on the railing in front of the skyscraper. He held his musical instrument in his hands and had his eyes closed as he sang. There was a large circle of rain surrounding him. At first, it was very light, very small, and then it gradually fell harder and harder until his hair was soaked and stuck to his face. But despite the sound of rain falling, his voice rang out loud enough for me to hear. I couldn't make out too many words, but I could tell it was a sad song. Probably one about lost love, lost happiness. The sight almost made me want to cry. I hadn't cried since I was ten. But in that instant, I just felt so close to him. I knew we both felt the exact same thing. We both longed for something we could never get again, and it hurt. It hurt like it shouldn't. It was so much hurt and sorrow and _pain_. A pain we both felt like sharp thorns.

From that night on, I followed him every night. Every night I stood behind that building and watched him sing his heart out. Sometimes he sang real songs, and sometimes he just sang, without real words to hear. But there was no need for words. Just the singing itself was emotional enough. And there was a lot of emotion. I could always tell which feeling he conveyed each night. Slowly, I learned to tell the emotion by the rainfall as well. There was a different type of rainfall for each one. When his songs were sad, the rain would be light and small. When he was angry, it always came hard and fast, so hard it felt like hail, and it was so loud I could never make the words out. And when he was happy it was a medium, well-rounded rainfall, somewhat bouncy. Somewhere in between sadness and anger. I listened to and watched him play every night for two months, just standing there and feeling what he felt. I never cried like the first night, but sometimes I came close. Sometimes the sheer power of whatever emotion he sang about nearly knocked me off my feet. I imagined I could feel it being absorbed into my own body, making its way up to my own hole and filling it, just a little bit. But every time he stopped for the night, the feeling would go away, and I would be left just as empty as before.

One night, many nights later, I followed him, as usual. That night, his raindrops were sad. He sang slowly, softly, and the water mirrored him perfectly. I even recognized the song. It was a very touching song, about feelings, and hiding them from the world. I must've made some noise in reaction, for he suddenly stopped playing and looked around. "Who's there?" His voice rang out clearly without the noise of the rain, and I tensed. As if he could sense me, his eyes turned to the building I was behind. "Come out! I know you're there!" I held my breath as he continued to stare at the building. As soon as he took a step towards it, I turned and ran. I didn't know if he saw me or not, but I heard no sounds of pursuit. Still, I kept running until I reached my own room in the castle. Silently slipping inside, I sat down on my bed. Just like the first night, tears ran down my cheeks. I didn't know why I was crying, but I cried anyway. Silent little sobs, so as not to wake anyone. By the time I wiped away my tears, the sky was graying and I heard the familiar sounds of his footsteps coming down the hall. They stopped at my room, and I held my breath, but then they moved on. There was the sound of his door and opening and closing, and I let out the breath I'd been holding. I decided to stay away from that night on.

Nights became hard again. With nothing to do, my mind dwelt on things I didn't want it to. Questions I didn't want to think about. Questions about my (and his) particular sense of emptiness. About why we were different. About why we were even here, with all of these people who were so alike yet so different from us. The questions haunted me. I'd say they kept me up, but it's not like I'd sleep anyway. I was lucky if I slept one day a year. I wondered when he slept. Just how alike were we?

I still watched him during the day. As much as I could without drawing attention to myself. But I had the nagging feeling that he knew. He knew I was watching him, and he knew it was me that night. What would he do about it? Would he be angry? Sad? Happy? Can he even express such things aside from his nightly ventures? I didn't like having so many unanswered questions.

One day, he didn't talk to anyone at all. He normally put on his charade flawlessly, but that day he let the emptiness inside show. Everyone saw it, and they stayed away. Maybe they sensed the difference from their own little holes in their beings. Or maybe not. I pondered this from behind the corner, so absorbed in my own thinking that I didn't notice him move. Suddenly, he was right in front of me, his arms on either side, trapping me against the wall. "It was you," he said softly, staring me straight in the eyes. "I know it was. Why?" At that moment, all of the scattered thoughts racing through my head suddenly stopped. In one clear, pure moment, I knew the answer to every question I'd been asking. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to him. "Because I know you feel it too," I whispered. He was so startled that he dropped his arms. I turned and walked away, inviting him to follow.

He did.

* * *

Happy Dexion Day! Yes, I distinguish between Zemyx Day and Dexion Day. XD

Ok, so being serious. Yes, this is really a Dexion story. Obviously the 'he' is Demyx, and the narrator is therefore Zexion. The city and castle are - you guessed it - from the world that never was. But I didn't use ANY names, only very vague references, and there's a reason for that. The reason is I also wrote it to NOT be a Dexion fanfiction. See, there's a teen writing competition at my library and I'm planning on submitting this. Fanfiction is allowed but I wanted to sort of un-limit myself to just Kingdom Hearts. Therefore if you look at it a different way, 'he' can be anyone, the narrator is the reader, and the emptiness can be anything. u.u That's why this is one of a very few amount of times when I'm going to ask everyone to PLEASE, PLEASE review! And PLEASE put something constructive in it. I know some people don't think their opinion is that great and that's why they don't comment, but anything you say can be more helpful than you think. ;) I want to make sure it's really great so I have a good shot at winning.

Inspiration? Umm... my mind? I dunno, it's always come to me about the different types of rain, and how each one feels. The sad song that Zex knows is 'Iris' by Goo-Goo Dolls. A small part of the inspiration as well.

There will be a 'sister' story to this one! It won't be a sequel, but it'll go along with this, and it'll be in Dem's perspective instead of Zexy's. :D Hope you like this one, and have a good Dexion Day! :3


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